


Do You Love Me Any Less?

by DebbieF



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen, Sleight spoilers for episode 10 Trial and Punishment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-21 19:45:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3703351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebbieF/pseuds/DebbieF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This takes place at the end of the finale.<br/>I do not have d'Artagnan and Constance married, just friends. So there is no mention of her in this.<br/>This is just before they go off to war with Spain plus Aramis never left to become a monk.<br/>I was upset on d'Artagnan's behalf that Aramis got a kiss from Athos when he appeared at the hideout after Milady had rescued him.<br/>As close as the two characters are supposed to be, Athos never showed that toward the boy. We will blame this on the writers of course. LOL! This is my way of solving that issue.</p><p>++++</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do You Love Me Any Less?

  
_Musketeer garrison - barracks_

As d'Artagnan packed his gear, his thoughts rambled around in his head. He remembered the way Athos had greeted Aramis with a kiss when Milady had delivered him at their hideaway. Ramming his clothes into a satchel, d'Artagnan chastised himself severely. He too was overjoyed to see Aramis and had greeted him warmly as well. Even joked with Aramis that it was hard to kill him. Thanking God for delivering their charming friend back to them, d'Artagnan had enjoyed the warmth of comradery once again between all four of his friends. Yet the pain still lingered in d'Artagan's heart that all he had ever received from Athos was the occasional hug, slap on the back, or squeeze of a shoulder.

Even when he had been sick, Athos would just hover nearby or pat d’Artagnan in sympathy and tell him he’d check on him later. Once reunited with his brothers after the kidnapping fiasco of himself and King Louis, all Athos could think of was the king's welfare. Which of course was the most important thing at the time. But right after that Athos didn't even ask how d'Artagnan was, he just wanted to know if Milady truly had saved their lives.

“Eh, whelp, who’s winnin’?” Porthos chuckled as d’Artagnan stared at him as if he had grown two heads. “You’re wranglin’ with that satchel as if it were fightin’ back.”

“Porthos,” d’Artagnan spoke quietly not wanting anyone else to hear his words, “you, Athos, Aramis and I,” he shook his hair out of his face. “We love each other do we not… as family?”

“Of course,” Porthos tilted his head as he studied the boy’s pensive expression.

Running a hand through his hair in agitation, d’Artagnan sighed as he closed his satchel. “Never mind,” he smiled at his friend. “I’m just feeling a little sorry for myself and maybe seeing things that aren’t there.”

“Care to explain what bug’s up your arse?” Porthos asked, watching a range of emotions cross the lad’s face.

“When Aramis joined us after Milady rescued him, I was surprised when Athos greeted him with a kiss. I never saw him do that before,” he couldn’t look at Porthos for fear the man would notice his unwarranted jealousy.

“Ah!” Porthos nodded, now he got it. “And you’re feelin’ left out in the cold eh, whelp?”

“All the times I’ve been in danger or hurt…” d’Artagnan trailed off, head hanging down, feeling ashamed of his thoughts. Perhaps he should have never voiced his misgivings out loud. Then a heavy weight settled on his shoulder and when d’Artagnan turned his head slightly he saw Porthos’ hand resting there.

“Ya already know why we’re called the inseparables and that we’ve been close friends for five long years at least.”

“I understand all that,” d’Artagnan tried to smile for the larger man’s benefit, but it probably looked more like a grimace to Porthos' eyes. “You three have a history together that I could never hope to compete with.”

“What’s this nonsense on about competin’?” Porthos asked gruffly, not happy at all hearing how this raw wound of the boy’s had festered within d’Artagnan in such a short time.

“This is a stupid and senseless conversation, Porthos,” d’Artagnan threw his satchel over his shoulder. “I should never have brought the subject up,” he grinned over at his friend. “We’ve got a war to win.” Without a backward glance d’Artagnan walked out of the barracks.

Frowning, Porthos knew the young man harbored misguided feelings that Athos didn’t care for d’Artagnan as much as he did for himself and Aramis. Just before he went to follow the pup, Athos walked in. “How long were ya outside?”

“Long enough,” Athos admitted quietly. “I’ve hurt d’Artagnan without being aware of it.”

“None of that now,” Porthos slapped Athos on the back. “Like the whelp said... we've got a war ta fight.”

++++

As the men headed out of the garrison on their mounts, Aramis pushed his hat back on his head and stared at Athos. “Tell me again why we were the last ones out?”

“I had business that needed attended too before leaving and Treville was kind enough to grant me time to see to it,” Athos replied. “Though I will admit to being curious as to why you three lagged behind.”

“ _Lag_ the man says,” Porthos snorted. “You’re daft if ya think we were gonna leave you behind.”

“So we just waited for you,” d’Artagnan smiled at his mentor as Athos rode abreast of him.

“Well as long as we catch up to the men before they reach the border we should be all right,” Athos said. It meant a great deal to him that they had waited. If he had been thinking with a clearer head, Athos would have been upset if his friends hadn’t thought to keep him company on the way to meet up with their regiment.

“Ummm, Captain,” d’Artagnan’s glance slid to his other two brothers before focusing back on Athos, “what are your orders?" he teased.

“For petite Gascons to not ask trifling questions of their newly commissioned captain,” Athos sighed, but his lips quirked upward in a hint of a smile. Athos had it on his mind to talk to the boy when a more opportune moment provided itself. In the meantime light and easy banter was called for. “Looking forward to your first campaign, d’Artagnan?”

“Oui,” d’Artagnan frowned. “Though I wished it could have been avoided all together but with finding out Rochefort’s true colors and that Spain was responsible for putting the man in the palace,” he shook his head, "there could be no other outcome.”

“Well said,” Aramis met the lad’s serious face. “Spain will rue the day they decided to make an enemy of France.”

“Hear, hear!” Porthos chanted. “I’m lookin’ forward to bashing some Spanish heads together.” He was pleased that his remark made them all laugh, especially the brat. D’Artagnan needed something to lighten his mood some.

“Any advice or tips?” d’Artagnan glanced at all three older, experienced men and lifted a brow.

“Just keep your eyes open at all times, lad,” Porthos offered. “Remember, it’s either your life or your enemies when you’re fightin’.”

“And when someone yells _duck_ ,” Aramis grinned, “that’s exactly what you do,” he held up a hand. “Oh and when you hear cannon fire that’s an especially good time to hit the ground.”

Laughing, d’Artagnan felt free of worry. Like nothing could hurt him as long as he was in their company. But he knew, as much as they would try to stick together, they would end up separated in the heat of battle. Especially with Athos being the captain now, he’d have a command post set up giving out orders. It was going to feel funny not having Athos or the others guarding his back. But this is what he trained for and why he was a Musketeer now. Not to be coddled but to show them all he was his own man. Noticing Athos didn’t give him any advice, d’Artagnan turned his head to look at his mentor with curious eyes.

Understanding that look the boy was giving him, Athos reached for the right words to give the pup. Though after d’Artagnan’s first campaign he and the others really shouldn’t go on calling the younger man pup any longer. But it was hard letting go. Too hard at times. On the battlefield Athos would worry for all his friends but for d’Artagnan especially. Not that the lad couldn’t hold his own, but one never knew what could happen in the heat of the moment. Since he wouldn’t always be fighting beside the boy, Athos’ concern felt like a lead weight in his stomach. “You’ve proven yourself a force to be reckoned with,” Athos smiled at d’Artagnan’s pleased face. “If you fight like that on the battlefield, you should always come out the victor.”

“In other words,” Aramis chuckled, “put your Gascon temper to good use.”

Everyone laughed at Aramis’ comment and that set the tone for the rest of the ride until they reached a place where they could rest their horses and have a light snack. They had made good time and could afford the small delay.

Seeing this as his opportunity to clear the air between himself and d’Artagnan, Athos walked over to where the boy sat underneath a tree quietly munching on an apple. Sitting down beside him, Athos offered the lad his water skin.

“My thanks,” d’Artagnan nodded as he took the skin from his friend. When he was done, d’Artagnan handed it back. When he went to pull his hand away it was to find it caught in the gentle grip of his mentor. “What?” For he realized by the look on Athos’ face that the man needed to get something off his chest. D’Artagnan suddenly wasn’t sure he wanted to hear whatever the man had to say.

Looking down at their entwined hands, Athos suddenly was struck dumb. He knew what he wanted to say but now the words wouldn’t leave his lips. He damned himself for always being the fool when it came to matters of the heart. Which this boy truly held but didn’t realize it because Athos was a stubborn man cut from a different cloth than d’Artagnan. Which he thanked God for on a daily basis. The youngster didn’t need to emulate Athos in that regard.

“D’Artagnan, you know that I do not do well with words,” Athos stopped the minute he heard the boy’s amused snort. His own huff of laughter joined that of d’Artagnan’s.

“Oui,” d’Artagnan chuckled, “that is an understatement, mon ami.”

“I put my foot in that one,” Athos’ eyes crinkled up in the corners when he smiled at the lad's evident enjoyment that Athos could laugh at himself. “I want to say this now before it could be too late.”

“You think because we go off to war that you may not return?” That thought scared d’Artagnan to death. He prayed all his brothers would survive what was to come. But he would be an idiot thinking that no one would get hurt or killed in the coming skirmish. D’Artagnan just didn’t want it to be his three best friends.

“It also could be the other way around,” Athos countered, “but I dearly pray to God that he wouldn’t be that cruel to me.” He noticed d’Artagnan’s eyebrows both go up nearly to his hairline from Athos’ remark. “Listen, this is something I should have told you long ago.”

“Then don’t if it is too much for you to say,” d’Artagnan pleaded, not really sure what Athos was trying so hard to voice.

“If I do not get this out now, I may never find the strength to do so again,” Athos struggled for the right words. “You do not know how much you mean to me because I’ve been too afraid to tell you or to show you.”

“Mon dieu!” d’Artagnan pulled his hand out of Athos’ grip and tried to stand up but Athos pulled him back down. “You heard me talking to Porthos before we left,” he covered his face with his hands. “I am so embarrassed.” Feeling Athos hands tearing his own away, d’Artagnan’s face heated up in shame. “That was an insecure boy that spoke those words to Porthos.”

“Perhaps I added to that insecurity?” Athos questioned as he watched the child look back at him uncertainly. “Since the tragedy of losing Thomas and at the time thinking that I had Anne hung, my life changed dramatically. I was afraid of getting too close to anyone.”

“Even Aramis and Porthos?” d’Artagnan asked as he watched the other two men enjoying their own snacks a little further away from them. They were laughing and joking like they were all on the way to a fair instead of a battlefield.

“Those two pushed their way into my life like a gale forced wind,” Athos smiled in memory of the day he met up with those two. “I feared that if I loved someone or something that much, if I were to lose them it would tear me apart,” he touched d’Artagnan’s cheek tenderly. “That is why I often hold myself back with you.”

“I’ve noticed,” d’Artagnan admitted wryly with twinkling eyes.

“You’re the closest thing to a son I will ever have, d’Artagnan,” Athos admitted. “I’ve been so scared to love you like that openly thinking that God would take you away from me,” he snapped his fingers, “just like that. Then I’d be alone again.”

“Have you kissed Porthos when you thought he was in peril too?” d’Artagnan observed the play of emotions crossing the older man’s face. “Oui, Porthos pulled an _Aramis_ on me many a time. Thinking the man was dead or missing only to find that Porthos too was prone to resurrections.”

Laughing, d’Artagnan clapped his hands. “Like someone else we know, eh?” His comment had Athos joining in the laughter which lightened d’Artagnan’s heart greatly. “I’m sorry I sounded like a spoiled brat back there with Porthos.”

Tapping the boy’s chin lightly, Athos’ somber face held a touch of grief. “Once again... my fault. When you and King Louis were kidnapped the only thoughts running through my mind were _let the king live, but please God keep d’Artagnan from harm_.” Looking away from d’Artagnan’s shocked expression, Athos felt a hand tugging on his arm. When he glanced back, tears were running freely down the lad’s face. “Non, don’t cry. I can’t stand to see you hurt in any way.”

Sniffing, swiping at his eyes with his sleeves, d’Artagnan gave Athos a lopsided grin. “Well we’re going in the wrong direction for that then.”

“You really have been hanging around those other two idiots too long,” Athos huffed. Then he took d’Artagnan by surprise as he pulled the boy in close and hugged him tightly, placing a light kiss to the boy's temple. “May God and all his angels watch over you in our coming battles.”

“I could say the same for you and those other two _idiots_ ,” d’Artagnan hugged Athos back, not wanting to ever let him go. “You have become as close to me as my own pe’re was. I do not want to lose you either.” Touching his forehead to Athos’ they stayed like that for a few minutes until they heard someone clearing their throat... loudly.

“Eh, is this party just for the two of you or can any buffoon join in,” Porthos grunted.

“Only _idiots_ allowed, Porthos,” d’Artagnan winked at him. He nearly giggled out loud at the startled look Aramis wore at his comment.

“I don’t put myself in that particular category but think a group hug is called for,” Aramis glanced at Porthos' grinning face as the bigger man nodded in agreement.

“Actually Aramis _is_ in that category but doesn’t like to admit it,” Porthos whispered in d’Artagan’s ear.

“I heard that,” Aramis pouted. Seeing that he wasn’t receiving any sympathy, Aramis held out his arms wide and waited for his brothers to join him. After all four of them hugged each other they extended their arms out and placed one hand on top of the other.

“All for one and one for all!” they cried together.

“Spain better look out because the inseparables plus d’Artagnan are comin’ ta get ya!” Porthos laughed as he and his brothers headed for their horses.

The End


End file.
